


Shaken

by story_monger



Series: You're The Only North Star (Platonic VLD Week) [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Team Dynamics, Team as Family, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 08:29:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9985409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/story_monger/pseuds/story_monger
Summary: When a standard mission goes completely off the rails, possible ways of coping with the repercussions include classical music, building frenzies, and good old fashioned shouting.Between the pair of them, Keith and Pidge might manage to get through the whole list.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Featuring bossy, badass Pidge and some hurt!Hunk.
> 
>  
> 
> Platonic VLD Week
> 
> Day 1 (Feb. 26): Sunlight / Moonlight  
>  **Day 2 (Feb. 27): Quiet / Chaos**  
>  Day 3 (Feb. 28): Lions / Bonding  
> Day 4 (Mar. 1): Enemies / Family  
> Day 5 (Mar. 2): Got your back / Don’t let go  
> Day 6 (Mar. 3): Injury / Healing  
> Day 7 (Mar. 4): Free Day / AU

“Keith! Down!”

Instinct makes Keith drop to his stomach a half second before a white-hot laser streaks above his head. It comes close enough to singe his helmet; he can smell the faint burning. A few cannon shots come from behind him, and Keith glimpses a sentry down the hall fall apart. Feet clatter alongside him, and then Hunk is kneeling beside him.

“You okay?” Hunk asks.

“Yup. Thanks.”

Hunk grabs Keith’s elbow to haul him upright. “I have the feeling there’s going to be a whole lot more of them once we round the corner,” he says.

Keith nods and materializes his sword again. “Let’s do it, then.”

The pair of them jog down the hall, Keith taking point and Hunk right behind. As far as missions go, this certainly hasn’t been one of their best. The original idea had been that the five of them would sneak into the Galra ship to steal some much-needed parts for the lions’ upkeep, and if they could free some prisoners or nab useful data along the way, all the better. Except then a group of sentries had spotted them and…yeah. Now their main objective is to regroup at the port where Pidge landed the Green Lion and get the hell out of dodge. Shiro, Lance, and Pidge are somewhere ahead of them; Keith can hear the hum of Shiro’s Galra arm. If he and Hunk can rejoin them, it’ll make everything much easier.

Keith slows as he nears the point where the hallway makes a hard right. He glances back at Hunk. “Ready?” he asks. Hunk nods.

Keith rounds the corner with a yell, Hunk right on his heels. A dozen sentries are already pounding down the hall in their direction, and Keith ducks out of Hunk’s way so he can mow them down. About two thirds of the sentries fall, and Keith lunges forward to take care of the rest. He slips into that hazy, red mental space where the only things that feel real are his body and his sword and Hunk moving somewhere just at the edge of his awareness. He ducks and thrusts on pure instinct, feeling his sword slice through sentry after sentry.

A sudden shout and grunt yanks Keith out of his head. He looks to his right and feels his chest seize at the sight of Hunk leaning against the wall, hand splayed across his side. His head is ducked, his hair hanging in his eyes, and his breathing is hard and shuddering and labored.

“Hunk!” Keith cleaves one last sentry in half and lurches toward Hunk. “Hey, hey,” he breathes, gripping Hunk’s shoulder. “Hunk? You okay?” Which is a stupid question; obviously, Hunk isn’t okay. His entire frame is shaking, and there’s a sickening dark stain spreading from a charred spot in his armor.

Hunk peers at Keith through his bangs and gives a hard, choked laugh. “Guess I wasn’t moving fast enough,” he croaks.

“No, I should have been watching your back,” Keith murmurs, reaching out. “I’m sorry, Hunk. I’m so sorry.”

Hunk doesn’t answer; his eyes are squeezed shut and he looks a few seconds from keeling over.

“Guys?” Keith calls into the comms system. “Hunk’s down. I might need some help back here.”

There’s a long silence before Pidge’s voice replies. “Shit,” she says. “Lance is down too. And Shiro’s—”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Shiro interrupts. His voice is so tight, it’s liable to snap.

“Yeah, sure, that fucking head wound looks real super-duper,” Pidge shoots back. “The blood really sells it.”

Keith closes his eyes briefly and forces himself to breathe. Beside him, Hunk whimpers.

“Keith?” Shiro asks.

“Here.”

“I don’t know how much support we can give you,” Shiro pants. There’s a brief silence and low grunt. “We’ll try. But—“

“Yeah, I understand.” Keith touches Hunk’s shoulder. “Hunk?” he says in a low voice. “You still with me?”

Hunk nods slowly. “Keith?” he says.

“Yeah.”

“Really don’t wanna die here. Wanna at least die where there’s sun.”

Keith’s chest snaps clean in half. He nods, blinking hard. “You’re gonna die a century from now,” Keith murmurs. Movement at the other end of the hall makes Keith shift his gaze and find a fresh bought of sentries approaching. His heart pounds so hard that it threatens to choke him, but he forces his voice to remain steady. “On Earth. Somewhere warm and surrounded by everyone who cares about you. Okay?” Keith tightens his grip on Hunk. “Hunk? That sounds good, right?”

“Mm.”

“Okay,” Keith breathes. He’s going to need full mobility. With a low apology, he helps lowers Hunk to the floor and makes sure he’s propped against the wall. Then he stations himself directly in front of his teammate and materializes his sword. It’s very clear to him: they’re going to have to cut him down if they want to get anywhere near Hunk.

The first sentries to reach Keith are cleaved with a few well-placed swings. But the onslaught becomes thicker after that. Keith has to move quickly, more quickly than he can really manage. It swiftly becomes a matter of holding onto his position for dear life, just barely keeping himself and Hunk from being overrun.

Suddenly, a series of cannon blasts graze past his ankle, and three sentries in front of Keith fall to the floor. Keith whirls around and sees Hunk grinning weakly up at him, one hand on his cannon and the other still gripping his side.

“Looked like you needed some help,” Hunk rasps.

“Oh,” Keith exhales. He doesn’t have much more to say after that; his muscles are shaking violently, and his brain is doing that thing where it can only process two to three things at once. But the hallway is clear for the moment; they need to move. Keith ducks down and slings Hunk’s arm over his shoulder. He yanks him up too quickly, and winces when Hunk groans. Together, they shamble down the hall. The sound of battle swells, and when they round the corner, they find Pidge and Shiro pressed back to back with Lance’s figure huddled at their feet. Around them are more sentries.

“Keith.” Keith shifts his head to see Hunk staring hard at the display. His jaw is clenched. “I’m gonna need some help,” he says.

“You’re not—“

“Listen. Buddy. I am barely holding onto consciousness here, and I really don’t have the time to argue, okay?” Keith nods, swallowing. “Good. I’m not sure I can hold up the cannon by myself. It’s heavy. If you help me, I think we can pick off most of these guys.”

“Whatever you need,” Keith promises.

Hunk nods, and once again, the cannon materializes in his hands. Keith reaches out to grab it as well and huffs in surprise at the weight. Hunk always lugs this thing around like it’s nothing. Hunk aims the cannon and lets off four short, sharp bursts. Several sentries fall, and Pidge lets out a ragged cheer. Shiro—and he has a streak of red running down the right side of his face that makes Keith’s heart stutter—lunges forward with his Galra arm and cuts down two in a single blow. Pidge shoots her bayard out and lassoes several more together, making an easier target for Hunk and Keith.

It can’t take more than a minute for them to clean up the rest of the sentries, but to Keith it feels like a short eternity. When the last sentry falls, Hunk’s cannon dissolves, and he sags abruptly against Keith. Keith grunts, bracing himself to keep Hunk upright.

“Okay, awesome,” Pidge pants, stowing her bayard. “We need to move _now_.”

“Right.” Shiro steps forward and visibly totters, blinking heavily.

“Shiro?” Keith says.

“He’s definitely concussed,” Pidge says in a flat, hard voice. She surveys the five of them and scowls. “Keith, can you handle Hunk?”

“Think so.”

“Okay. Shiro, you can stay upright on your own?”

“Yes, and then—“

“And I’m taking Lance.” Before anyone can protest this, Pidge bends down and hauls Lance up into a fireman carry over her shoulders. Lance’s head lolls when Pidge straightens, but she doesn’t falter.

“Pidge, you can’t—“

“Shiro, so help me, don’t tell me I can’t do this because I honestly don’t have the time or the patience for that. Now get your concussed ass to Green before I try to carry you, too.”

Shiro blinks at her then nods once and hurries down the hall, if not precisely in a straight line. Pidge is right on his heels, and Keith and Hunk hobble at the rear. Hunk is losing consciousness fast, his eyelids fluttering and his legs dragging more and more. Keith keeps glancing behind them, waiting for the next wave of enemies to appear and knowing with sick certainty that they won’t be able to fight off another attack.

They round the corner, and there’s Green, her eyes already lit yellow and her tail thrashing with anticipation. The particle shield dissolves at Pidge’s touch, and Green lowers to allow them inside.

A few blaster shots hit the metal right by Keith’s head, but he manages to drag Hunk inside without further injury. When he stumbles into the cockpit, Pidge is already at the controls. Shiro is sprawled next to her seat, Lance’s head in his lap. Keith sinks to the floor beside them, Hunk slumping into his chest, right as the cockpit lurches forward.

“Everyone hold onto something!” Pidge growls. There’s a violent jerk, a deafening crash, and suddenly Green’s viewport is filled with stars.

“Did you just smash through the ship’s hull?” Keith asks faintly, peering over Hunk’s head.

“You bet I did,” Pidge mutters. Another lurch, and the stars blur slightly. “Coran?” Pidge says, tapping at her holoscreen. “We’re coming in with three injured. We’re gonna need some cryopods ready.” She glances back at Keith. “Unless you need one too?”

Keith shakes his head violently, making Hunk shift and produce a thready whimper. Keith stills abruptly, bringing one hand up to card through Hunk’s hair. He shifts Hunk slightly so he can examine the wound, then winces. There’s still a lot of blood seeping from it, so Keith places a hand over the wound and presses. Pidge’s gaze lingers over them for another few seconds before she shifts to Shiro and Lance.

“How about you guys?” she asks.

“Lance is breathing and he has a pulse,” Shiro says, fingers pressed to Lance’s carotid artery. “I think he’ll be okay once we get him to a cryopod.”

“What happened?” Keith asks.

“An explosion knocked him out,” Shiro says wearily. “One of the blasters hit some wiring, or something. That’s how I got this.” He gestures at the ribbon of blood seeping down his face.

“Speaking of which, you holding up?” Pidge asks.

“Always,” Shiro says, tilting his head up to smile thinly at her. “You know, you sounded very much like a Holt back there.”

“Oh?”

“All the commanding presence of Samuel backed by the full force of Matt’s mouth.”

“Well I got it from somewhere, didn’t I?” Pidge veers Green toward the small white speck that represents the castle ship. “The potty mouth is all my mom, though. Poor dad. He’s a proper gentleman living with a bunch of ingrates.”

Shiro laughs thickly, and even Keith feels his mouth twist up. The castle is swiftly approaching, and Keith has to resist the urge to tell Pidge to hurry up; he knows she’s pushing Green as hard as she can already. It’s just that Hunk is frighteningly still against his chest and he won’t stop bleeding, and Lance is pale and battered, and Shiro’s eyes seem to be having trouble focusing on anything. A few minutes later, Pidge eases Green into her hangar. Keith releases a hard exhale when the cockpit opens and Coran and Allura are there with three floating stretchers between them.

After that comes a flurry of action as they load Hunk and Lance onto the stretchers. Shiro should be on one too, but he insists that he can walk to the med bay. Pidge calls him stubborn; Shiro reminds her that she’s not the commanding officer here, is she? Still, Keith manages to get Shiro’s arm around his shoulder to help guide him after the others. And if Shiro leans on him a bit harder than he should, Keith isn’t going to say anything. It takes another few minutes of scans and cajoling to get all three of them into the cryopods, and by then Keith feels suspended between wanting to collapse and wanting to fight something, _anything_ , to get rid of the adrenaline pounding through him. He jerks when Coran touches his shoulder.

“Easy there, number four,” Coran says in a soothing voice. “Just need to check you over.”

“I’m fine,” Keith says blankly.

“I’m sure you are, but I’m very nosy and have a need to check that for myself.” Coran produces a thin metal rod and scans Keith’s face with it in a practiced motion. Several small holoscreens pop up, and Coran peers at them carefully.

“A bit bruised and battered, but fine,” he says decidedly. “I have that ointment if you want to—“

“I’m fine,” Keith insists. He shouldn’t be this short with Coran, but his whole body is shaking, and Hunk, Lance, and Shiro are far too still and pale, and Keith needs—something. He has no idea what.

Pidge and Allura are talking a few feet away, Pidge holding the meager handful of extra power crystals they could snag before the whole mission went south. Allura accepts the crystals, nodding. She lays a hand on Pidge’s shoulder and says something that makes Pidge give a small, weary smile.

When Allura turn to talk to Coran, Pidge focuses her attention on Keith, looking him up and down.

“What?” Keith asks.

“You almost look as shitty as I feel,” Pidge says. She strides forward and snags Keith’s elbow, tugging him after her. “Come on.”

“What—“ Keith cuts himself off as Pidge drags him along. He’s seen Pidge in these moods, especially after battles. It’s usually best not to push her.

He follows Pidge down the halls, trying and failing to stop his hands from trembling and his teeth from chattering. The adrenaline crowds thick in his throat, and every time they round a corner, he jerks violently in anticipation of a mass of enemies.

They end up in Pidge’s workshop. Pidge leaves Keith in the middle of the room and marches over to where her laptop is perched on the workbench. She clicks at it a few times, and a second later, the first four notes of Beethoven’s fifth symphony blast through the room’s sound system. Keith blinks.

“You’ve got Beethoven on there?” he asks blankly.

“Yup.” Pidge hauls a metal container full of spare parts from its shelf and dumps it on the floor. She bends over to start sifting through the scattered contents. “I prefer the ninth, but the fifth is good for when my brain is all.” She makes an exploding gesture near her head. “You know?”

“I guess.” Keith still hasn’t moved from his spot. He doesn’t entirely trust himself. “When I was living by myself in that shack, after the Garrison,” he says. “The only real stations my radio could pick up was country and classical.”

“Good lord.” Pidge straightens and stares at him in abject horror. “What, did you not have your own music?”

“My phone got busted a month in,” Keith says, shrugging. “All I had was the radio.”

Pidge eyes him thoughtfully, lips pursed. She bends over again abruptly. “You going to stand there, or do you want to help me?”

“What—you’re working? Now?”

“Yes, Keith,” Pidge says in a flat, hard voice. “Because if I don’t do something productive with myself, I might possibly go bash my head against the nearest hard surface so I don’t have to think about what just happened and that we almost lost—” She tilts her head and exhales roughly. “Frankly, you look like you’re thirty seconds from doing the same thing, so I might have to order you to help me.”

That’s fair. Keith picks his way over the debris to where Pidge is standing. “What are you making?” he asks.

“If Shiro had been unconscious too, we’d have been royally screwed,” Pidge says matter-of-factly. “The two of us are kinda small; we can’t lug those three guys around. Like, I know there are those stories of people lifting cars off their kids, but I’m not gonna bet on that as my back up plan.” She makes a small, triumphant sound and straightens with a mass of wires in her hand. “I’m making a carrier of some kind. Like the floating stretchers. Something small we can stash on our suits, and when we need to move one of the bigger people around, we can whip it out and load ‘em up.”

“Oh,” Keith says. “That’s. Very practical.”

“I’m going to need Hunk to get the engineering right,” Pidge says. “But I can work on a prototype until he wakes up.”

“I can hand you tools,” Keith says.

“Good enough.”

They cycle through Pidge’s stock of classical music while they work for the next hour or so. Pidge moves in jerky, short bursts that tells Keith she’s dealing with the same adrenaline aftershocks that he is. She tackles it by muttering and cursing a lot while she works, while Keith just quietly shakes every time he lets himself stop moving. At some point, they finally think to shed their armor and continue to work in the black body suits, even if they’re stiff with sweat.

Keith has no idea what time it is when Coran appears with water packs. He doesn’t say much, just sets the packs on a nearby table and nods when Pidge and Keith murmur their thanks.

“This is interesting,” Coran says, pausing at the workshop’s doorway and tilting his head. Holst’s The Planets is up; the Mars movement, if Keith has it right. It’s oddly appropriate.

“Oh yeah, you haven’t heard much of our classical stuff, have you?” Pidge says. “Remind me to hook it up to the castle’s sound system some time. I think you and Allura would like it.”

“I will certainly do so,” Coran nods. He glances at them thoughtfully then leaves them to it.

When he’s gone, Keith levers himself to a stand and crosses the workshop to grab the water pouches. He hands one to Pidge before collapsing into a cross-legged sit beside her. Pidge sets aside her mass of wires to take several deep sips.

“Right,” she murmurs. “I forgot about hydration.”

Keith coughs out a small laugh. Then a larger laugh, then a full-on belly laugh, and then he’s bent double, head in his hands, the laughter heaving through him like a tsunami. He knows he sounds hysterical, but it he can’t _stop_.

He’s dimly aware of Pidge moving around him, gripping his shoulders and saying something loudly. Keith feels like he’s going to rattle apart any second, so he does the only thing he can and reaches out to grab Pidge’s arms in a desperate attempt to steady himself. She stiffens for a second before bending over him and burying her face in his hair. She’s shaking too; her breathing is labored. They must a look a mess, Keith thinks. Two teenagers in sweaty, stiff suits clinging to one another and trying not to collapse completely while Holst blares over the speakers.

Keith has no idea how long they sit like that. But at some point, the shaking finally stops, and he realizes that the adrenaline has finally been replaced by an endless, weary expanse of gray. He shifts, and Pidge lifts her head to let him straighten. She looks wrecked; her eyes are blotchy red as compared to her pale skin. She peers at him grimly then exhales a light laugh.

“You look like hell,” she says.

“Same.”

They sit silently, still loosely clutching one another, listening to themselves breath. Keith is abruptly, dizzyingly glad that Pidge didn’t have to be loaded into the cryopods too, and that they can carry one another through this aftermath instead. He’s glad she’s on his team. That she’s part of his family.

“Hunk covered me so many times in there,” Keith hears himself say. “And I let him get shot.”

“Yeah,” Pidge murmurs. “I wish…I think Lance and Shiro were trying to shield me when the wiring exploded. That’s why they got the worst of it. I wish they wouldn’t _do_ that.”

Keith peers at her through his hair. “They care about you,” he says. “Don’t want you hurt.”

“Good, and if all that caring gets someone killed one day, I’m gonna—“ Pidge cuts herself off. Her eyes are wide and damp, and Keith can’t think of anything to do except tighten his grip on her arm. She sniffs noisily and manages a thin smile for him.

They fall silent again. Over the speakers, the Mars movement ends, and the first soft notes of the Venus movement start to play. “I like this one,” Keith says.

“Mm,” Pidge agrees. Neither of them seem inclined to move yet, so they remain as they are, listening to the willowy notes echo across the workshop. Keith’s heart rate is slowly starting to come down to normal, and he can tell that within half an hour, he’s going to need to crash somewhere. It might end up being the floor of Pidge’s workshop. Which is fine; he’s done it before, and Pidge never seems to mind. But until then, he’s content to sit, and be quiet with Pidge, and listen to a shred of home.


End file.
